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THE LIGHT OF HOME.
My boy, thou wilt dream the world is fair,
And thou must go; but never, when there,
Though pleasure may smile with a ray more bright
Like the meteor's flash, 'twill deepen the night
But the hearth of home has a constant flame,
"Twill burn, 'twill burn, for ever the same,
The sea of ambition is tempest-tost,
And thy hopes may vanish like foam;
And then, like a star through the midnight cloud,
For never, till shining on thy shroud,
The sun of fame, 'twill gild the name;
And fashion's smiles, that rich ones claim,
And how cold and dim those beams must be,
THE AFRICAN CHIEF.'
CHAIN'D in the market-place he stood
That shrunk to hear his name-
Vainly, but well, that chief had fought,
Yet pride, that fortune humbles not,
The scars his dark broad bosom wore,
Then to his conqueror he spake
The story of the African Chief, related in this ballad, may be found in the African Repository for April, 1825. The subject of it was a warrior, the brother of Yarradee, king of the Solima nation, a people who inhabit a country adjoining those rivers of Western Africa which enter the sea at or to the north of Sierra Leone. He had been taken in battle, and was brought in chains for sale to the Rio Pongas, where he was exhibited in the market-place, his ankles still adorned with the massy rings of gold which he wore when captured. The refusal of his captor to listen to his offers of ransom drove him mad, and he died a maniac.
And send me where my brother reigns,
And I will fill thy hands
With store of ivory from the plains,
And gold-dust from the sands."
"Not for thy ivory nor thy gold
A price thy nation never gave,
For thou shalt be the Christian's slave,
Then wept the warrior chief, and bade
And, one by one, each heavy braid
Thick were the plaited locks, and long,
And deftly hidden there
Shone many a wedge of gold among
"Look, feast thy greedy eye with gold Long kept for sorest need;
thou askest sums untold,
say that I am freed.
Take it my wife the long, long day Weeps by the cocoa-tree,
And my young children leave their play And ask in vain for me."
"I take thy gold — but I have made
And ween that by the cocoa-shade
Strong was the agony that shook
His heart was broken-craz'd his brain:
They drew him forth upon the sands,
"WHY sitt'st thou by that ruin'd hall, Thou aged carle so stern and grey ? Dost thou its former pride recal,
Or ponder how it pass'd away?"
"Know'st thou not me ?" the deep voice cried, "So long enjoy'd, so oft misus'd:
Alternate, in thy fickle pride,
Desir'd, neglected, and accus'd?
"Before my breath, like blazing flax,
While in my glass the sand-grains shiver;
And measureless thy joy or grief
When Time and thou shall part for ever!"
THE LANDING OF THE PILGRIM FATHERS IN NEW ENGLAND.'
THE breaking waves dash'd high
And the heavy night hung dark
The hills and waters o'er,
When a band of exiles moor'd their bark
Not as the conqueror comes,
Not with the roll of the stirring drums,
Not as the flying come,
In silence and in fear.
They shook the depths of the desert's gloom
Amidst the storm they sang,
And the stars heard, and the sea,
And the surrounding aisles of the dim wood rang To the anthem of the free.
The ocean-eagle soar'd
From his nest by the white waves' foam, And the rocking pines of the forest roar'd This was their welcome home!
New England was colonised by a body of Puritans, who left England, 1620, that they might enjoy the full exercise of their religion.